


In Which Karkat Learns A New Human Term

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Integrated Worlds [16]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cultural Confusion, Discussion of kinks, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More Fluff, No Sex, Panic Attack, Trauma, discussion of sexual topics, this is the dumbest fic and i dont know how to tag it, what was the point of this fic because i forgot at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:49:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: John kinkshames Karkat, Karkat asks Dave what the actual fuck kinkshaming is, things proceed from there.





	In Which Karkat Learns A New Human Term

"Dave." 

Karkat says your name like he has an important reason for wanting your attention. He probably _does_ have an important reason for wanting your attention—if nothing else, you consider it important because he's important. Like, that's a thing, him being the center of your universe. That's definitely a thing. 

" _Dave,_ " he says again, looking up from his laptop to meet your eyes. 

Whoops. Rambling in your head instead of actually answering again; need to work on that. "Yeah?" 

"What the fuck is kinkshaming?" He gestures at the screen, mouth twisted in irritation. Not real irritation, though, not anything that'll have him growling and snarling and lashing out, just that brand of annoyance he has when he's dealing with idiots. John, probably. "Fucking Egbert says he's kinkshaming me, and I need to know how utterly l need to destroy him." 

Bingo. Strider intuition for the win. You stifle a laugh and scoot over to lean against him, scanning the text onscreen to see how John's fucking with your boyfriend now. Eh, it's not anything too dickwad-ish—just John teasing Karkat for a supposed romance kink. Or trying, anyway. 

"C'mon, babe, the name's pretty self-explanatory," you tell him, reaching over to type out WE ALL KNOW YOU HAVE A FUCKING BORDERLINE NECROPHILIA KINK, WITH YOUR STUPID GHOSTBUSTERS OBSESSION. AND YOUR CRUSH ON NIC CAGE'S UGLY ASS. THAT'S A THING TOO. "Like, he's joking, obviously, but it's telling somebody their kink or fetish or whatever is sucky." 

"Kink. Define kink." You know he's frowning even without looking up. 

"Uh..." This is literally something you've never been called on to do before. "It's, like. Something that turns you on, I guess? A sex thing. Like how you got a thing for nipping just a lil' bit when you're kissing, and then you can't fuckin' wait to get my pants off when I bleed—" 

Karkat whines, high-pitched and piercing, and butts his head against you, short horns scraping gently across your cheek. "I can't help that shit and you know it, you're _red_." 

He says _red_ like you'd say _beautiful._

"Fuck, babe, that's not even on the table for kinkshaming." You turn your head and kiss him, careful of the sharp teeth. No sex while his laptop's on the bed. "You're gentle enough; we don't even need a fuckin' bandaid most of the time. Lil' blood kink ain't gonna hurt me." 

"Technically—" 

"Shoosh." He does shoosh, when you wind your fingers into his hair, just barely brushing your knuckles against his horns. Shuts up, leans against your hands, closes his eyes and purrs like a cat. "That's a good kink. Sweet kink. Like how you lowkey get off on holding me down and kissing the scars; dunno if that's a power kink or a scar kink, but it's sweet." 

"Not power _or_ scars, dumbass." His eyes half-open; you love how he almost slurs the sibilants, as you keep letting his hair. "It's a thing D used to do...when we were all kids, your hatchmates and me and Kankri, back on Alternia. Kissing hurt shit better." 

Oh holy shit. Your heart can't take this sweet amazing guy. 

"Hal used to give all the reasons it was stupid, but he'd ask for it anyway every time he got hurt—" 

You interrupts Karkat's reminiscing by removing his laptop from his lap, setting it on the bed next to him so you can take his place. Which puts you in the perfect position to kiss him again, one deep kiss and then quick light ones that you don't bother to count all over his face. Jesus, you're the one with a romance kink, not Karkat. 

He chirrs at you, and it's not quite a questioning sound. 

"I love you," you tell him, leaning your forehead against his and closing your eyes. "Love you so fucking much." 

"Love you too." He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you and just holding you for a moment. "I remember when you wouldn't say that, you know?" 

Yeah. You do know. For more than two years after you had the talk with him—the _are we pale, are we red, are we bros, are we dating?_ talk, one embarrassing mess of a convo that ended with him in frustration-tears and you in panic-tears, both of you reaching for each other instead of trying to continue with words—you couldn't tell him you loved him. Not wouldn't, _couldn't._

And yeah, when you finally forced those three words out for the first time you cried, and Karkat cried, and it's really too bad that neither of you have a crying kink, because you do a shitton of crying around him. Not _because_ of him, no—maybe because he somehow bypassed the stoicism that bastard trained you into, took the rule of _Strider shit stays with Striders_ that keeps most of your emotions under wraps and shattered it into a million shards, scowled and scoffed at the thought of you trying to put it back together. He doesn't force you into telling him anything, doesn't ever try to make you cry, but he listens to your rambling and reminiscing, wipes the tears away and comforts you when you break down.

Makes you feel safe. 

"How many fucking kinks are there?" Karkat mutters, staring at his phone. No, _your_ phone; guess that one was closer. Great, now "list of kinks" or whatever is gonna be in your search history. "These can't be real. This is a fucking joke?" 

While you were zoning out, he shifted you mostly-off his lap, one arm wrapped around you as he taps at the screen with the other. Okay, you're good with this. You lean against his shoulder, realize you can't see the screen, and huff in irritation. "Okay, which one looks like a joke?" 

"Pet play? You fuck animals?" 

"Nah, you put on ears and maybe a tail and your partner treats you like a good puppy. Or kitty. Or bad puppy, i guess." Not really something you've ever done. "Animal fucking is frowned upon on Earth, Karkat."

" _Good_." He makes a disgusted face, presumably at the thought of having sex with nonsapient beings. You're with him on that. "...lactation. I don't even know what that word is." 

"Like, milk. We're mammals, we make milk under certain conditions—" 

"And that's a sex thing?" 

"Nope." 

"It's on the list, Dave." 

"Yeah, because people are fuckin' weird." 

" _Humans_ are weird." 

"Dude, I've seen troll porn. Y'all have, like, a subgenre dedicated to discussing what you plan on doing. Not even doing it. Just talking." 

Karkat growls and jabs his finger at the phone. "So do you! You have dirty talk, it's on the grubfucking list!" 

"That's not what dirty talk is—" 

"Why the hell do you have so many weird words for sex, anyway? What the fuck is vore? Or—oviposition? Dave? What the fuck?" 

His "what the fuck?" is a direct result of you choking on a combination of your defense for the English language and the pure startled laughter at the mention of fucking _vore_. 

After maybe a minute of waiting for you to quit giggling, Karkat chirrs in exasperation and looks up the words online. The noises he makes at the definition are warbling and very obviously baffled. "Getting eaten is not fucking sexy! What the hell is wrong with your species!"

"Hey, it's not _my_ kink—" 

" _Eggs_?" His voice scales up in alarmed horror, and he almost drops the phone as he looks up at you. "You fuck eggs." 

What. 

Wait, oviposition. Egg kink, duh. 

"That's...not what that is." You're not even sure how that would work. "I'm pretty sure that nobody fucks eggs, I promise. What site are you even on?" 

Karkat dodges your first attempt to snag the phone, more out of habit than an actual desire to keep you from getting it. It is _your_ phone, after all. He's not even on a website with a list, either—just going down the results on google. You find an actual list of kinks (no idea how complete it is) and give the phone back. 

He frowns at it, then looks up at you. "So...do any of these apply to you?" 

"...dunno." Which is true. You've had a fuckton of sex, actually. Probably experienced a bunch of the shit on the list. But you kind of just...cooperated with what _they_ wanted.

Fuck. 

"Read me the ones that sound cool to you, babe. Or, y'know. The confusing ones." 

He just nods, shifting to pull you closer again. "...harems?" 

"One dom, lotsa subs. Unless you got some secret datemates, not gonna work." 

That earns you a snort and a kiss on the forehead. "Swallowing. Is that another way of saying vore?" 

"Nah, means sucking dick and swallowing cum, I'm guessing. Not eating your goddamn partner." 

"Eating your partner isn't fucking sexy," he grumbles again. He's halfway offended by that concept, you can tell. It's funny as fuck. "Okay, I have another mystery word in human." 

"English." 

" _Human_. 'Masochism?'" 

"Uh. It's like, wanting to be hurt. Getting off on pain. You pair it with sadism; that's wanting to hurt somebody else." Makes you want to shiver, an urge which you successfully shove down. You're good. You're fine.

"Fuck, there's a lot of subcategories under that." 

"Mhm." Yeah, you'd know all about those subcategories, right Dave? _Shut up, brain. Not helping._

"Biting...bloodplay...choking...crying...fuck, none of this makes any sense at all. Cutting—jesus fuck, that can't even be safe? Needles? Knifeplay—" 

Oh, yep, there it goes. Right out the window. Your cool.

You smack his wrist, probably harder than you should, and the phone goes flying. As soon as you do it you regret it—coulda used your fuckin' words, dumbass—and the guilt for lashing out, on top of the anxiety and fucked-up emotions from listening to him list all that _shit_ is enough to have you pulling out of Karkat's half-embrace, wrapping your arms around your chest and trying not to look at him. Trying not to look away. Trying to fucking _breathe_. 

Okay, maybe you couldn't have used words to just tell him to stop talking about that. Sure as hell can't use them now, to apologize or explain. 

"Fuck, Dave—" Karkat rolls to his knees, eyes wide as he reaches for you. You can't help the flinch, but at least he knows not to stop. Puts his hands on your shoulders, waits a beat for any reaction, then drags you back into his lap. "That's a fucking trigger, isn't it? Something that bastard did?" 

"Mmm." It's not a confirming sound, nor a denying one. Just an acknowledgement that you heard him, as you drop your head against his shoulder and take the deep, measured breaths that help with this shit. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention, I—" 

Goddamnit, words are still not forthcoming. Instead, you unwrap your arms enough to pap his cheek—well, some part of his face—without taking your own face out of his sweater. He knows what you mean. _Stop beating yourself up._

It gets you an unhappy chirp. "I hate doing this to you." 

Not, _I hate it when this happens._ Not, _I hate it when you do this._ That's kind of an important nuance of wording, at least to you. 

Gives you the composure to take another deep breath and work out something to say. "You didn't do anything, babe. Accident. Stupid lil' thing, I'll be okay in a sec." 

"But—" 

More aggressive pap, and an audible _shush_ , followed up by you raising your head and kissing him. "Nope. Shut it. No guilty shit, only cuddles." 

Karkat purrs deep in his throat, and nods, and pulls you up to give you the affection you want. Need. Okay, fuck panic attacks. You've got the cure for the aftereffects right here, in this guy. 

You're okay. You'll be okay. 

After a couple minutes, Karkat shifts his grip on you, makes a wordless grumbling sound, and says, "I still don't get your fucking egg thing."

**Author's Note:**

> not depicted: twenty minutes of Karkat getting increasingly more frustrated and baffled as Dave explains ovi. Poor guy. 
> 
> I...don't know why I wrote this. 2,000 words of this. What. Why.


End file.
